Of Waiting and Memories
by Lilmissxx
Summary: Images flooded his mind, causing him to tilt his head back as he twitched against her with a heady moan. Rocking his hips against her, he possessed her mouth again, full of fire and sin. Hermione thrashed beneath him, scoring her nails against his back, arching herself, rubbing, aching, wanting. Snapshot series. Part of my TNHG collection.
1. First Impressions

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

_**NB: This is NOT mean to be a fluid story, but snapshots of memories that describe the journey of Theodore and Hermione's relationship. This means that the lengths of chapter will vary, and there are time gaps inbetween each chapter.**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**1.**

"Why do you wait for him?" Hermione looked up from her book with a frown.

"Why do I wait for whom?" The man looked at her quizzically, eyebrows puckering into a frown before answering her slowly, as if it was obvious.

"The freckled red-head." She gave a wry smile, fingertips sliding between the pages of her book and flicking the next one over.

"You'll have to be more specific I'm afraid – there are rather a lot of those around here." He took a step closer to her, reaching out his fingers to steal her book. She shifted slightly so he touched thin air. His tone became frustrated.

"You know exactly who I mean. The youngest male." A false look of understanding dawned on her face, and her fingers clicked as if the answer had just come to her.

"Oh, you mean Ronald?" He nodded. She shrugged. "I'm not waiting for him." The brown-haired man looked taken aback. Taking another step closer, he slid gracefully into the seat beside her. She wriggled slightly, a little uncomfortable with his closeness. His frown deepened when he noticed and moved the chair so there was more space between them. Hermione wondered about the touch of heat that flickered away from her after his move.

"Then why does everyone say that you are?" He seemed genuinely confused, so she placed down her book on the table carefully, before looking across at her questioner.

"Perhaps the same reason that results in most people here thinking that you believe in that pure-blooded spiel Mr Nott – you haven't disproved it." He sent her an unamused look, and her mouth twitched with the effort not to giggle. He inched his chair closer to hers, gaze boring hard into hers.

"But I never called you any names or bullied you at school. Surely that has to count for something?" She raised an eyebrow.

"True, but you have to think of it as guilt by association. Or I guess your situation could be described using the phrase;_post hoc ergo propter hoc__._" Theodore smirked.

"Granger, sometimes I swear that you make things up just to see if lesser-intelligent beings believe you." A flash of his pre-war personality shone through in his teasing, and an almost smile graced Hermione's face. She replied flatly.

"You mean like freckled red-heads." He held his hand up in a gesture of surrender.

"Hey, you said it, not me." There was a pause as Hermione went to pick up her book again. Theodore plucked it out of her hands before dodging her flailing attempt at retrieving it. Hiding it behind his back, he smirked at her displeased expression and motioned for her to sit back in her seat. Blushing at her sudden proximity to him, she did so without a thought.

"Now now Granger, we haven't finished talking yet. Don't tell me that you've forgotten your basic manners already?" Eyes narrowing, she waited for him to continue. "Now, tell me what that little phrase of yours means and precisely how it relates to everyone – sorry, most people – avoiding me like I still carry the plague, then we can both be on our merry way." Rolling her shoulders back, Hermione relaxed in her at the familiarity of increasing somebody else's knowledge before answering him.

"Well, it's a flaw in human logic, literally translated as 'after this, therefore because of this.' When we see two scenarios occurring chronologically we automatically assume that there the second is a result of the first, when in reality the situation could be inverted – or there might be no correlation between the two." She paused for breath whilst Theodore absorbed the information he was given. "In your case people saw Malfoy talking, heard his pureblood elitist rubbish, falsely connected it with the fact that he was in Slytherin and hey presto – wrong conclusion drawn, 'all Slytherins must be pure-blooded fanatics interested only in 'their' kind's lives.'"

Theodore drew himself out of his chair and hesitated, looking at Hermione with unfathomable eyes. She held her breath – but was unsure as to why – before he brought a hand tentatively to her shoulder and held it there for a second, withdrawing it quickly and nodding at her.

"Thanks for clearing that up Granger."

And with those words he left her alone.

**10/07/12**


	2. Cleaning

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**2.**

The next time she encountered him, she was busy cleaning the living room. Looking up, she saw him casually propped up against the doorway, arms folded, with a puzzled look on his face. She gave him a small friendly smile before continuing with her work.

"You do realise that she's training you to be a housewife, don't you?" His voice made her jump – spilling the bowl of water onto the carpet. With a flick of his wand it was dry. She turned around and sent him a quick aggravated look.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." A short burst of laughter. Hermione flushed in embarrassment.

"Sweetheart, she's training you – cleaning, cooking, gardening… tell me, when was the last time you managed to have a decent conversation with someone?" She opened her mouth indignantly to reply, but snapped it shut when she realised it had been the conversation she'd had with him.

Which had been over a month ago.

He gave her a wry smile as she tried to protest. "I'm not the only one who's been cleaning or cooking though, the others have been helping. Molly's been giving them tasks to do as well." A deep chuckle rose from his throat. He offered her his hand. She looked at it quizzically.

"Come, I want to show you something." His voice was tinged with amusement and something else she couldn't quite define. It was that unknown element that made her take his hand. It was warm, with surprisingly soft skin. Long, narrow fingers clasped hers gently, but with enough strength to pull her up. Hermione held her breath as she stood, entering his space for the first time.

It wasn't just his hand, but his entire body that radiated heat. Its warmth sent a sliver of comfort through her, and she dropped it in surprise and stepped back quickly. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing fractionally. She thought she saw a hint of _something_ flash through them before he turned around and walked to the window on the opposite side of the room. When she did not follow he called out,

"Come over here. You might want to see this."

Cautiously she made her way over to stand by him and looked out of the window. She frowned.

"I don't see anything." He ducked his head to beside hers and squinted. Extending an arm, he pointed to an area shaded heavily by trees.

"Watch that spot, you'll see it soon enough." His breath whispered across her ear, and she swallowed, holding back a shiver which threatened to run through her at his nearness. She stood for a while, watching the spot his hand was pointing to diligently. When nothing happened after nearly a minute, she huffed.

"I don't –"

"_There!"_

She saw a flicker of colour pass over the trees, before hurtling back under the shade again. It was only after she'd seen the colour that he stood up again, and a breeze brushed across the spot where his cheek had been. This time she couldn't hold back her shiver. A light blush spread across her cheeks, but she refused to look at him, even when he called her surname.

"What was that?" She could feel the heat of his gaze on the side of her face, but refused to look at him.

"I'll tell you if you turn around." With a devious smile, she turned to face the desk she had been scrubbing earlier. Now he was looking at the other side of her face. He chuckled. Hermione replied,

"Well? I turned around, so tell me what I just saw." Theodore clicked his tongue, but Hermione could hear the smile in his voice as he told her.

"What colour was it Granger?" Hermione huffed. He smirked, but continued. "Come on Granger, you're supposed to be smart. So I'll give you some clues, and you can figure it out." She huffed again, but answered anyway.

"Orange."

"Good girl." Her fingers twitched with the effort to not turn around and slap him.

"Patronising prat aren't you?" A deep laugh was his only response. She began to get impatient. "Well? What's the next clue, _oh great master of knowledge?" _The laughter abruptly stopped. As she was still facing away from him, she missed his larynx bobbing up and down, and the ever-so-slight flush he couldn't hide.

"Well, what's the predominant colour around this… house?" The word emerged between slightly gritted teeth, and she appreciated his efforts to change his thoughts about the Burrow. A smile quirked up the corners of her mouth.

"Orange. But I don't get the correlation." He sighed heavily.

"Granger, there are eight people currently playing a game of quidditch outside. As they have been since about nine o'clock this morning. They've been playing under the cover of the trees so you don't see them." Hermione frowned, and turned to face him. His gaze flicked over her face, softening slightly at her confusion.

"But they had tasks to do..? I don't understand." Wearily rubbing a hand over his face, he pushed his hair back and answered her.

"The only people cleaning this house are you and Molly, and occasionally the Weaslette. Most of the time they simply hang around outside, playing games or reading. Even more rarely, they'll actually do a bit of research into what you've asked them to do." He thought for a moment. "Actually, Potter seems to be doing that one the most. At least he's grasped the concept that we will eventually have a full-blown war on our hands. He spends the mornings researching and practicing, and then messes around with the others in the afternoon." A hurt expression appeared on Hermione's face.

"So, the only one who's been given tasks is me." He winced at her tone.

"Oh hell Granger, don't speak like a kicked puppy to me, I came to tell you remember? I'm on your side." She laughed, saying her next sentence jokingly.

"Oh, come on Nott, you're not on anybody's side. Not truly, anyway." His gaze hardened, and he took a step closer to her. She hurriedly backed away, suddenly reminded that this was a very _dangerous_ man, and one that she didn't know very well. A small cry of pain escaped her as she bumped in a cabinet. He continued to advance.

Hermione's eyes were wide with surprise and fear, hands trembling ever-so-slightly. His gaze swept over her face. She felt torn apart. Breathing faster, she threw her hands up in surrender, but they only pressed uselessly against his chest. They'd gone from being playful to serious in a flash, and she didn't know how to cope.

She especially didn't know how to cope with his lips pressed against her ear, and his arms teasing – but not quite touching - her waist as he caged her in. His voice was a mere whisper, but it echoed throughout the entirety of her body.

"You'd be surprised."

She swallowed thickly – was that his lips deliberately pressing against her ear in an imitation of a..? – No, it couldn't be. She threw that thought to the back of her mind.

As she went to reply, she realised he had already left, and she stood alone.

**10/07/12**


	3. Arguing

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**3.**

"Just because you can't take a joke doesn't mean you should ignore me for a month, you know." This time it was he who glanced up from his reading. Upon seeing who had entered, he placed his book face down on the desk.

"I wasn't ignoring you." She raised an eyebrow. He sighed. "Alright, maybe I was. Happy?" She beamed, and wandered over to sit beside him, not noticing him tensing slightly as her arm brushed his.

"Very. Now what's so important about your book that you won't let me see the front cover?" He opened his mouth, ready to verbally attack her when his eyes darted sideways to meet hers, only to find them genuinely curious, rather than the accusing gaze he'd expected to find. Snapping it closed, he looked quizzically at her.

"Nothing. Perhaps I just happened to place it that way." She let out a bark of laughter.

"Come now Nott – since when have you done something without an ulterior motive?" Her eyes were playful and teasing, but hurt whisked through his gaze before he could hide it.

"Again with the assumptions Granger. Perhaps you should actually get to know me better before you carry on this teasing business." He gave her a half-smile, but she saw the slight twitch of his fingers that said when he was lying, and replied,

"Hey, come on. I didn't mean it." He turned to face her head on, looking at her seriously.

"Didn't you?"

He stood and picked up his book. Hermione immediately followed suit and grabbed his arm.

"Now you just wait one second Theodore Nott. You do not get to walk away again. It's ridiculous. Now, sit down, and we'll talk." He looked sulkily at her.

"I've already said everything that needs to be said." She arched an eyebrow.

"Oh really? So why don't I understand why you keep walking away when we're in the middle of a conversation? Why don't I understand why you felt like ignoring me this past month over something I said in jest? Or did it cut too close for your liking?" He glared at her, and pulled his arm out of her grasp.

"So you know how hypocritical you are? You say that the others are judgemental because of this _post hoc ergo propter hoc_ business, and then make exactly the same assumptions! You say that I'm not on anybody's side: why? You have no idea of my motivations of joining the Order. For all you know, I might've joined it because I have a wild crush on Potter and dare not see him die!" There was a pause as they both grimaced. He spoke again, quieter, but no less venomous. "You know nothing about me Hermione Granger, so until you do, then don't jest about what you don't understand." He swirled around and went to storm away, but froze upon hearing her reply.

"Well it's pretty difficult to get to know you when you keep walking away." One, two, three seconds of silence followed. With a devious smile she said the one thing she knew would make him stay, "Seems pretty cowardly to me."

The effect was instantaneous. Fists clenching, all of his muscles tensed, prepared to strike. As he turned around slowly Hermione realised that, once again, she had enraged a dangerous predator with no thought of her own safety. Swallowing hastily, she summoned all of her courage to remain in the same place as he stalked towards her, mouth twisted into a snarl. She looked at him defiantly. He stopped about a foot away from her, trembling slightly in his anger.

"You have no idea what it's like to turn away, leave your family behind – become a traitor to everyone you used to know. You don't know what it's like to break every tentative friendship you ever made to live in a place where nobody accepts you for who you are, where everybody judges you for who surrounded you when you were younger. That, Granger, does not make me a coward."

She didn't point out that she knew about family, having sent hers away, but decided to focus on him for a change so that she could find out something about him. She spoke quietly.

"That must be some motivation that made you come here then."

More silence. He was still trembling slightly, but was relaxed, rather than gearing up for a fight. Slumping his shoulders, he looked at her through his fringe. Stretching out an arm, he reached out slowly, giving her every chance to back away. When she didn't, his warm fingers brushed against her cheek. She held her breath as they caressed her face intimately before his voice shakily said,

"You have no idea."

This time, she let him walk away.

**10/07/12**


	4. Sleeping

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**4.**

A loud voice violently awoke Hermione from her sleep, and she leapt out of bed, grabbing her wand and rushing downstairs to find two men facing down one another in the hallway on the floor below, wands out, ready to strike. She noticed his clenched jaw, and the slight tremble in his hand that gave away how angry he was. The other was bright red with rage.

"Come on Death Eater! Fight me you son of a bitch!" Hermione gasped, and shouted.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Theodore turned to look at her, but the other spoke up.

"I was just walking along, minding my own business, when out of nowhere this _scum_ starts to insult me. In my own home! So of course I retaliated, and then he drew his wand. For Merlin's sake, he's out of control! Why the hell is he still allowed to be here? God knows he doesn't _do_ anything. I mean, even I –" Hermione interrupted sharply.

"That's quite enough of your slanderous accusations. Why can't you just leave him be? Goodness knows he has enough to worry about without you trying to pick a fight every time you see him."

Two pairs of eyes flew to her in disbelief. Theodore's trembling stopped, and he put down his wand. The other however, kept his firmly trained on target.

"You're sticking up for him? Bloody hell Hermione, wouldn't have expected you to stoop so low as to defend a Death Eater." A sneer appeared on his face. "I bet you're shagging him aren't you? You disgusting –" He suddenly froze, falling to the ground with a thud. The two left standing didn't flinch.

She caught Theodore tucking his wand away, and quietly thanked him before turning around and walking back to bed, walking quickly so he didn't see the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

A hand caught her door before it closed, and he entered the room hesitantly, as if waiting for her to kick him out. Closing it behind him with a soft click, he wandered over to where she stood facing away from him and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She rested her cheek against it, shuddering. The tears started to fall. Theodore swallowed, before turning her and pulling her close, resting his cheek against her head. She gripped his shirt tightly between her fists, one on his chest, the other his back, and sobbed into his embrace. He rubbed soothing circles at the base of her spine, but said nothing – not wishing to say comforting lies. His other hand tangled into her hair, squeezing gently before smoothing over her curls. They stood like that for a while, until her legs almost gave way and they sat down heavily on her bed, rearranging themselves until they were comfortable again.

Eventually her breathing eased and slowed. He continued to embrace her until he realised that she had fallen asleep, and swallowed at the amount of trust she had shown in him. He gently lay her back, covered her with a blanket and kissed her forehead gently, muttering his gratitude quietly into her ear before kissing her again and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

He walked downstairs confidently, stepping gracefully over the man on the floor and retreating into his bedroom, failing to notice the curious eyes that peered down over the bannister at him.

**10/07/12**


	5. Swinging

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: **Of Writing and Falling in Love.** Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '****_Post hoc ergo propter hoc_****_.'_**

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**5.**

Nervously making her way out to the woods near the border of the grounds, Hermione spotted him sitting on a swing, gently rocking back and forth with his feet never leaving the earth. Padding softly towards him, she cursed when a twig snapped beneath her foot. He froze, but didn't turn around. Hermione swallowed.

"…Hi."

He tilted his head to the side for a moment before turning back and resuming his gentle swings.

"Hi." Hermione came closer. He seemed to not notice, but the tension in his shoulders belied his easy motions.

"I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for last night." He gradually slowed his swings to a stop. His voice was quiet when he spoke,

"It should be me thanking you." Hermione scoffed.

"Rubbish. You'd have had him flat on his back within moments. I just prevented the family storm that would have erupted afterwards." His lips rose into a faint smile as he shook his head.

"As much as I appreciate the confidence boost, I wasn't talking about that." A puzzled look appeared on her face as she walked around to face him. His head was lowered, face hidden beneath locks of hair.

"Then what are you talking about?" He tilted his head away, but didn't answer. Hermione came closer, nervously reaching out to him. He startled as she brushed his hair away, fingers gently grasping and raising his chin to face her, gaze boring into his. "Theodore?"

There was silence as he contemplated his answer.

"I can probably count on one hand the number of people who'd allow themselves to fall asleep whilst I'm in their presence, let alone actually trusting me enough to sleep on me. It –" He sighed, running a hand wearily through his hair. "It just surprised me, that's all." She knelt before him, resting a hand on his knee.

"Oh Theo…" He shook his head.

"Don't pity me. People have plenty of reasons to not trust me." He looked away, only to snap his eyes back to hers when she replied,

"I don't."

He swallowed, opening his mouth but releasing only a puff of breath before closing it again. He tried again, but the words were caught in his throat. The honesty in her eyes cut him to the core, and much to his shame he felt the burning sting of tears in his eyes. Closing them before she could see, he whispered two words so softly that they were almost lost on the whispers of the wind that echoed around them.

"Thank you."

She stood up, sensing that he needed some time alone. Instead of walking away, she first bent down and kissed him sweetly on the forehead – much as he had done the night before – then resumed her path back to the Burrow.

**10/07/12**


	6. Meeting

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**6.**

It was the first meeting she'd sat in where they finally discussed a raid, which made her wonder if she'd deliberately been kept out of the loop. Her eyes caught Theodore's, who gave her an intense look. She shivered slightly before realising that Kingsley had been speaking.

"…we'll need one more volunteer." The thought of making a difference appealed vastly to her, so she raised her hand. As she did however, the man sitting opposite mimicked her action, voice announcing,

"I'll go."

Her mouth dropped open. Much to her knowledge he had never been on a mission before – like herself – as he hadn't 'proved his worth' yet. Another person at the table seemed to have a similar train of thought.

"Don't be ridiculous, he'll kill us when we're asleep!" A couple of voices echoed his sentiment, and the man gave Theodore a smug look. Theodore glared at him, clenching his fingers on the table so hard his knuckles were white. Hermione swallowed, before voicing her opinion.

"I think it's you who's being ridiculous." Deliberately not looking at Theodore, she ignored the surprised expressions around the table. "I mean, the other side already know that he's with us."

"You mean that he turned _traitor._" Another dark glare and a withering look from Hermione.

"It's a little difficult to be a traitor when you were never on their side to begin with, don't you think? And that's beside the point. If the Death Eaters know that he's on our side, then why on earth would he jeopardise that just to get a couple of quick murders in that wouldn't really make a big difference? He'd then have to be on the run from _both_ sides, rather than having a safe place to live. It's illogical." The perpetrator scoffed and opened his mouth, but Kingsley intervened.

"I think that's rather decided then. Nott, pack some things. You'll be leaving on Wednesday morning." With a brief nod, the meeting was over. Hermione remained seated, a sinking feeling in her stomach. By defending him she had lost her chance to go on the mission. And yet, she couldn't have agreed purely to satisfy her own interests, for that would have damaged the fragile relationship she had with him.

Her heart suddenly stopped, mind stuttering to a grinding halt.

_Relationship?_ Where had that come from? Finally standing up, she was on her way to find somewhere quiet to analyse just what was between them when she bumped into the very person who had monopolised her thoughts. He stared at her intensely, but looked unsure at what to do with his hands as they twitched by his sides, fingers twisting with each other. Running a hand through his hair, he finally broke the silence.

"You didn't have to do that." She glanced at him, surprised.

"Of course I did. He's an idiot." Theodore let out a brief chuckle.

"I know, but –"

"Theodore, when are you going to understand that I fight for what I believe is right, no matter what?" His face fell a little before his expression neutralised.

"What you believe is right." He stated flatly. She looked at him curiously.

"Yes, what is right. It would be a little ridiculous if I fought for what is wrong wouldn't it? I'd be on the other side of the war for a start." Her attempt at a joke failed as he just looked at her blankly. Clearing her throat a little subconsciously, she motioned at him subtly to move so she could pass. He did so, but stayed facing away from her as she brushed past him. Summoning up her courage, she stated, "I also only fight for those I care about." By the time he'd whirled around in shock she had already gone, the door closing softly behind her.

He stood there for a while before shaking his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

**11/07/12**


	7. Wounded

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**7.**

"Well this makes a change."

Hermione said nothing, engrossed in her book as he approached. When he stopped in front of her she paused momentarily, only to turn the page and continue reading. A small frown flew across Theodore's face.

"Oh come on, you can't _still_ be mad at me." A thud sounded as the book was placed down and his eyes met Hermione's scowl. "Aren't you even going to say hello?"

"Why would I do that? You seemed perfectly happy to race off without saying goodbye." Confused, he looked at her.

"I did. I left you a note." She scoffed.

"A note? And you thought that would be sufficient? A little 'Farewell, I'm gone, it doesn't matter if you never get the chance to say goodbye to me before I die because I've decided to take that opportunity out of your hands and just leave.'" He looked stunned.

"Well, what did you expect me to do? Just waltz up and wake you up at some idiotic hour just to inform you of exactly the same things I can write in a note and leave for you so you can read it when you're fully awake?" She tugged at her hair in frustration.

"That's _exactly_ what I wanted!" She had stood up by this point, aura crackling with energy. Theodore had to hold in his shudder as her magic buzzed around him powerfully. "When are you going to get into your _blasted_ skull that I care about you, therefore I want to wish you well and say goodbye in person when you go on a mission?" He stood his ground, face creased up in both anger and confusion.

"Well I don't know that! I'm not particularly good at this sort of thing Granger, am I? It's not like I've had the greatest experience with friendships in my life!" She jerked backwards slightly, voice suddenly small and morose.

"So it's back to Granger now, is it?"

"What? Hermione, no –" She ignored his words, circling the table to try and get past him. He grabbed her wrists and spun her around. "For crying out loud, it's going to take time to break the habit of calling you by your surname when I only started calling you by your first name recently! Give me a break!" She poked him viciously in the chest. He hissed in pain.

"Why the hell do you think –" she stopped, finally taking note of the dark circles under his eyes and the pain etched into his face. "What…?" He was quick to answer.

"It's nothing." Narrowing her eyes at him, she slid one hand out from his grasp. He watched it warily. Prodding him lightly in the same spot caused his lips to twist into a grimace.

"Liar."

There was a moment of silence as he swallowed, not meeting her gaze. Her next question was softly spoken.

"What happened?" He answered her briefly.

"Slicing hex." Her eyes widened and she bit her lip. He tried to remedy the situation, "It's fine, just a little tender, but all healed and –"

"Let me see." His voice trailed off.

"No."

They stared defiantly at one another.

"Let me see." She stepped forward.

"I said no." He stepped back. Belatedly it occurred to her that it was a reversal of a couple of their previous encounters.

"Theodore…" She growled warningly, magic sparking again. He took another, catching himself on the table and sitting down heavily.

"It's on my shoulder Hermione, not an easy place to see." She looked thoughtful, tapping her fingers lightly against her chin.

"Take your shirt off." He gaped at her.

"What? No!" She stepped forward, standing between his legs. A light flush appeared on his cheeks, as if he suddenly realised how dangerous the situation was. His voice was a touch higher when he next spoke. "All right! Fine. Just… back off a little." She refused, raising an eyebrow. He sighed. "Fine." Awkwardly, he pulled off his shirt. Hermione gasped as she saw the raw puckered skin on his left shoulder, spreading from his collarbone outwards.

"Slicing hex, my arse." Fingertips reaching out, she skimmed around the edge with a cool finger. Theodore hissed in appreciation. Leaning his forehead forward to touch hers, they remained motionless, both breathing a little faster. Closing his eyes, he hesitantly drew one hand up to cup the back of her neck, fingers deftly twining into her curls. She felt her own eyes slide shut, her other hand sliding up his back to rest just below his neck. He tensed as her fingers found what seemed to be scar tissue, but he distracted her by whispering his other hand over her hip, bringing her closer to him.

"I – _Hermione._" It was almost a groan, hushed and desperate, and she peeled her eyes open to stare at him. Heart thudding almost achingly, she willed him to say the right words, wanting nothing more than to tilt her head and –

"Nott? Hermione? You in here?" A knock at the door shattered the moment, and they both backed away as if burned. Lifting himself so he was upright again, Theodore pulled on his shirt, wincing as his shoulder was caught in the fabric. He motioned at her to open the door, and she did so to reveal Harry, hand poised to knock again. He appeared to not notice their flushed cheeks or Theodore's creased shirt, instead focussing just on her gaze.

"Kingsley wants everyone downstairs for a debriefing and quick update." Hermione nodded, and gave him a quick hug.

"Okay, we'll be right down."

Smiling back at her, Harry closed the door behind him and sauntered back down the hallway, whistling thoughtfully to himself.

**12/07/12**


	8. Talking

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**8.**

"Apparently you've been shagging him for months."

Hermione's jaw gaped open as Harry looked at her mischievously. Stuttering, her book fell with a slam onto the table, gaze darting around to see if anyone was listening in. Quickly casting a _muffliato_, she hissed at him to sit down. He slid into the seat opposite her, looking at her curiously.

"I mean, not that I'm bothered or anything, but…" She gritted her teeth.

"And who, Harry James Potter, are you blathering on about?" He chuckled, sliding further into the table and resting his elbows on it.

"Why, Theodore Nott of course, who else would I be on about?" Raising an eyebrow at her, he continued, "Unless of course you've been sneaking around with somebody else, you sly dog." She bristled until she caught his wink, and relaxed into the teasing.

"For your information, I haven't even so much as _kissed _him, let alone shared his bed." Though a light blush dusted her cheeks as she remembered the night she had fallen asleep on him. Her chest suffused with warmth, and she smiled unknowingly. Harry grinned.

"Not in the real world anyway." Pulled sharply away from her daydreaming, she cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Holding his hands up in surrender, he replied,

"Only that our subconscious desires sometimes emerge in our dreams." Hermione was lost to the sudden onslaught of memories of the previous night; of heat and tangled sheets, whispered moans and flushes of pleasure. _Their bodies entwined together_, dancing and sliding and…

Harry cleared his throat loudly.

This time she felt her face and ears turn red at his knowing look. Feeling the need to take him down a couple of pegs, she stated matter-of-factly,

"Yes, well, I'm coming up to my period, so being slightly more hormonal at this time is only part of that process. Nothing whatsoever to do with anything or anyone else." As she had expected, he'd balked as soon as the first part of her sentence was over. With a satisfied smile she rocked back onto two legs of her chair, before realising that she had never done that until _he _came along and promptly slid back down with a thump. Harry, having gained a little of his natural colouring back, shrugged.

"Well, I was actually going to say that although you don't need my approval or anything I see nothing wrong with him." She raised her eyebrows.

"Are you feeling alright? A fever? Headache?" He threw his head back laughing.

"I can assure you I'm perfectly healthy, which is more than can be said for your bloke. Did you know that he took the curse for Charlie?" Eyes widening, she stared at him blankly.

"I – no – I didn't, he never told me how he got it." Harry nodded, noticing that she hadn't corrected him over Theodore's 'ownership'.

"Yeah, he saw the curse coming for Charlie's back and tackled him to the ground, bearing the brunt of it himself. Earned the respect of quite a few people you know. I think that if something were to ever happen between you, others might not put up as much of a fight as you believe." She was silent for a moment.

He shifted again, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand.

"You know all I want is for you to be happy right?" Softly spoken, she nodded in agreement, realising to her surprise that there was wetness on her cheeks. Laughing to herself, she replied,

"You know he joked that the reason he joined the Order was because he has a wild crush on you and dared not see you die." Harry's eyes widened before he burst out laughing again. Hermione couldn't help laughing along with him, wiping the tears from her eyes and clutching her stomach.

"The first part is most definitely not true." She stuck her tongue out at him, "But as for the second, well, that's most likely _is_ true." He indulged her questioning look. "Well, if I die, then that means that his entire life goes to hell doesn't it? It's like you said in the meeting, Voldemort believes him to be a traitor. The torture he'd receive would be unbearable don't you think?" Covering her mouth with a hand, her shocked face stared back at him.

"I never even thought about that! Sweet Circe Harry, the pressure that he must feel!" Looking at him, she suddenly realised what she had said. "I mean, not that you'll _lose_, but…" His expression turned mournful.

"Well, there is always that chance. In which case, I'll be in a better position than the rest of you." Staring darkly at the table he finished, "I'll already be dead, so won't see the world's destruction." The tears sprang back to Hermione's eyes, and she reached across the table for him.

"Oh Harry…" She was interrupted by a new voice, smoother and lower.

"Well, it's not as if Voldemort's track record has gone particularly well so far has it? Beaten by a babe, foiled by first years, stopped by second years…" Hermione smirked at his hesitation. He gave her a look. "I was trying to think of something for third year, before realising that actually it was the only year he wasn't around."

"Not that it was any less easy." Harry muttered, still staring at the table. Theodore sighed and slid gracefully into the seat next to Hermione. "Hang on, how could you hear us? We casted charms and everything." He smirked, and Hermione's stomach twisted.

"Come now Potter, do you honestly believe that a charm invented by my own Head of House would have any effect at stopping my eavesdropping skills?" Replying with a thoughtful sound, an awkward silence descended on the three, Harry still staring morosely at the table. Theodore pressed his arm lightly against Hermione's when he noticed her start to cry again as if in comfort, and she leaned closer to him, moving her finger to rest fractionally over his. The contact sent a quiver of happiness through her, and she closed her eyes, quietly inhaling his scent.

Harry stood up.

"Right, I'm going to go and do… well, something. I'll see you around." He flashed them a brief sad smile before walking off, slightly hunched over and hands in his pockets. Hermione sighed.

"Well, that's stuffed up his day." Theodore turned his hand, brushing the side of her head with his nose, before leaning down to whisper.

"I'm sure he appreciates you actually listening to him when he's feeling down and loaded up with baggage rather than those fools who just brush it off with a cheery smile." She hummed an agreement.

"It's like the war hasn't quite hit home for them yet." He hadn't moved, breath whispering past her ear, displacing the curls. Her heart fluttered in her chest, eyes still closed, painting everything into her memory for later. She was certain that her dreams would feel more lifelike had they an actual basis for her senses to explore.

He covered her hand with his other without saying a word, pausing, and then relaxing when she made no attempt to move.

"Do you ever think life will be different for us?" He blinked.

"You mean in general?" She nodded, head moving to face his shoulder, resting casually. "Well, we've been out of school nearly five years now – well, six for you – but it seems as if we're no closer to ending this war than when we started. Yet we know that we're fighting for our right to _choose_ a future, rather than have someone select it for us." Her voice was quiet when she replied,

"You say that like it's all we need to keep going." Crooking a finger under her chin, he raised her eyes to meet his. Holding them solemnly, he answered,

"Isn't it?" Eyes darkening a little, she held his gaze, absorbing everything she could as if it was the last moment she would have to do so. "We're not fighting to dominate the world Hermione, but to have the freedom to make our own choices. That's what makes us different from _him. _It's why we'll eventually finish him off." His voice was coaxing, soft – yet she could feel the hard edge beneath it, a barely supressed rage at all Voldemort stood for. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. His eyes flicked down to watch before meeting hers again. Darker, more intense. She swallowed. He closed his eyes and kissed her gently on her temple before drawing her into the solace of his arms. She curled as close to him as she could.

"You make it sound so easy. Why do you keep helping me instead of being out there?" A light chuckle grazed her hair, followed by another soft kiss.

"Because I care about you."

**13/07/12**


	9. Kiss

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**9.**

"Well, I guess that this makes a change from the library. Felt a little more sociable tonight did we?" Hermione smiled into the pages of her book as she felt the sofa dip with his presence. Not taking her eyes of the words that enshrouded her she replied,

"It's amazing. I can be in a completely different room and people still avoid it like the plague. I get pitying looks from everyone nowadays." Turning to face him with a smirk she continued, "Congratulations. You've managed to make me a social pariah like you." He bowed theatrically.

"Why thank you very much!" She laughed freely, her head thrown back. He bit back a shiver to ask her the more pressing question that was on his mind, "But seriously, why are they avoiding you?" She stared at him.

"You mean you don't know?"

His tone was sarcastic. "Well if I did I wouldn't be asking you now would I?" Huffing, she brushed a curl from her face, angling herself more towards him so she was facing him head on.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear actually. I rather came to blows with someone of a higher standing in this household. Most unfortunate really, however it did allow me to free my mind and tell her exactly what I thought of her plan to turn me into a younger version of herself. I feel like a very large weight has been lifted from my shoulders." He raised an eyebrow.

"So essentially, you had an argument with Mrs Weasley?" At her sharp nod he sighed, shifting slightly closer to her.

"Well, I'm sure you must be absolutely devastated." Smirk returning, her eyes gleamed playfully with her response. Theodore felt his throat tighten.

"Not nearly as much as she is. Thank heavens I turned out to be the victor of the match; otherwise goodness only knows what I'd be doing now." Fingers twitching with the effort not to touch her, he cleared his throat.

"Be elsewhere for a start I'm sure, most likely scrubbing the floor until you could see your own reflection. So does that mean that the rest of the family has ostracised you as well?" She smiled brightly, but he could see the sadness in her eyes.

"Not entirely. Only the younger two. And Molly herself of course. The rest actually realise that there's no use crying over spilt milk when we'll be having a full-blown war on our hands very soon." Theodore looked down at the sofa, picking at the threads of the faded fabric. Her brow furrowed. "What?" Smiling nervously at her, he answered,

"Well, I actually came here to tell you that I'm going away again tomorrow. And to avoid a… _situation_ like the last one, I felt that I ought to tell you in person this time." She looked at him expressionlessly, mouth snapping shut.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." She swallowed.

"How long are you going for?" he shrugged casually, but just as he had previously seen her sadness she saw the tension he carried in his shoulders.

"No idea. Hopefully not too long, else I fear I'll end up throttling Weasley." Humming in agreement, she shuffled along so her thigh was pressed against his, feeling his heat frisson through her body.

"Is Harry going with you?" He nodded hesitantly. She sighed heavily. "Typical. My two greatest allies abandon me when I need their support the most." A flicker of anger passed through him.

"You think I deliberately chose to go now? In case you hadn't noticed Hermione, we're a little short on numbers at the moment due to the size constraints of this house. Which means that I have to go, silly little spats or not. It's like you said, there's a war happening out there!" His face had tightened, fingers grasping her shoulder.

"I _know_ that Theo. It's just… with the numbers so short; I had rather expected to have been asked to go on a raid when in actuality I haven't ever even been approached for anything other than research. It's like they don't think I'm capable!" He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she continued, "I mean, they even let _Harry_ go, and he's the effing 'Chosen One!'" Slumping back into her seat she looked at him through the cradle of her hands. "I'm sorry, I just…" He brushed the errant curl out of her eyes.

"I know." Moving one of her hands to his knee she leant forward again, so close he could almost taste her breath. Tensing in anticipation, he tilted his face, breathing fractionally faster.

"Promise me you'll stay safe." He groaned, hunching over so his face was cradled by his chest.

"I can't promise that. You know that I can't." Her lower lip trembled.

"I know, but I can hope."

Cupping his face with her other hand, she drew it down and kissed him softly, slowly.

Freezing in surprise, he could nothing but feel the heat curl through him where they were joined. His knee burned with the force of their magic swirling together, flushing his cheeks with a rosy hue. Just as he went to tilt his head she pulled away, eyes widened in both shock and fear.

"I – I'm sorry – I just –" Tearing herself away from him, she dropped her book as she rushed to pick it up. His arm reached out to grasp only thin air as she fled the room, ignoring his desperate shouts of her name.

**22/07/12**

**NB: Sorry this is so late, but I am going through a lot of university tutorials so some updates will be later than others. Thanks for your continued support.**


	10. Interruptions

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**10.**

He finally cornered her on the second floor, stuck between the stairs and her room.

"No Granger. That's not how it works. You don't get to kiss me, then walk away like nothing happened." She flung her body around to glare at him.

"You mean that I don't get to walk away, but you do? Every opportunity you have you end the conversation and leave!" She stalked towards him, eyes blazing. His eyes turned stormy. "You are such a hypocrite!" She approached his space, but was caught unawares when he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun them so she had her back to the wall.

"Not every conversation _Hermione_, just the ones where I have to." The heat from his hands raced through her body, igniting a slow burn that would last for hours. She opened her mouth to reply, but he placed a finger over her lips to silence her. "No. We're moving off topic. You didn't even give me a chance to do anything, you just kissed me and left, then ignored me for a month! How the fuck am I supposed to feel about that?" She swallowed nervously. He leant down to whisper in her ear, "You never. Ignore. Me. Is that clear?" Biting her earlobe, she exhaled against his finger, tongue darting out to lick it before retreating hastily.

She shifted, trying to get him to move, but instead he fell into the cradle of her thighs. Face burning; she defiantly met his gaze before inhaling sharply at the sudden flare of heat she saw there. Jaw clenching, he skimmed his finger down her collarbone, between her breasts before sliding his hand to one side, grasping her hips and wrenching her closer to him, nestling himself so she could feel his aching length pressed against the seam of her shorts. She wriggled and he groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder.

"Stop. Answer my question." She rolled her hips instead of responding, watching his carefully placed control fray at the edges. Breathing faster, shallower, her head fell to the side when he bit her throat and sucked, _hard_.

"No – don't – no marks!" She felt his smirk, his tongue soothing the agitated skin.

"Too late." His voice was husky, pitched low and she shivered. "I gave you the opportunity to answer my question and you didn't. So why don't you be a good girl and answer it now, hmm?" His fingers started to rub circles on her hips, and she moaned distractedly.

"Fine! I'll never… oh God! Won't ignore you again! Just – please…" A husky chuckle was his only response before he finally caught her lips in a bruising kiss, stoking the burn he'd started earlier. Cupping the back of her head with his other hand, he enflamed her soul with kisses, firing every nerve she had in her body. Twining his tongue with hers, he released her to inhale breathlessly, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Wanted to do this when you saw my shoulder a month ago. God Granger, the _dreams_ I had. Of taking you, marking you, making you _mine_." Images flooded his mind, causing him to tilt his head back as he twitched against her with a heady moan. Rocking his hips against her, he possessed her mouth again, full of fire and sin. Hermione thrashed beneath him, scoring her nails against his back, arching herself, rubbing, aching, _wanting_. Incomprehensible noises voiced from deep within her as she pleaded with her body for more of his heat.

A slammed door preceded a shouting match from downstairs. Hermione felt like she'd been doused with icy water. Halting the kiss, he traced her mark idly, suddenly seeming less sure of himself. Swallowing nervously, he refused to meet her eyes.

"Will you be mine?" She saw the tension he carried in his shoulders, and traced his cheek with a finger thoughtfully, nibbling her lower lip.

"It'll be difficult." He laughed sardonically.

"Hermione, this entire new life has been difficult for me - I doubt it could get any worse." She exhaled.

"True." Fingers twitching, his eyes finally met hers after darting over her face, as if searching for something. She suddenly realised she hadn't answered his question. "Oh Theo, of course I will. Did you ever doubt it?"

His shaky chuckle proved that actually, he _had_, but the relief on his face as she embraced him only served so cement her decision.

**23/07/12**


	11. Mistletoe

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**11.**

They were seated in their usual places reading when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

"It's Yule soon."

Hermione hummed an agreement, resting her book on her knees as she curled up on the sofa. "I'd forgotten it was so soon. There's just so much else to think about." A long meaningful pause followed as they both silently remembered the last couple of months. Looking thoughtful, he too placed his book down and came to sit beside her, resting an arm along behind her head.

"Is there anything you particularly wish for?" She shrugged.

"Not really. I haven't really thought about it. Why?" Leaning his forehead against her hair, he answered her.

"Well, it's just that I have an idea about what I want." His voice was low, merely a whisper through her hair, and Hermione felt alarm bells ring in her head. Warily she extracted herself from his grip. He frowned, before comprehension dawned. "Not to bed you, silly fool." She felt her body relax at his fond tone. "We agreed to wait until we were both ready for that." Earnestly he asked, "You do know I would never pressure you, right?" She smiled.

"Of course I do. But we're getting off topic. What would you like for Christmas?" With a catlike smile, he withdrew a blindfold from the pocket of his worn denims and dangled it in between their faces. Looking confused, Hermione opened her mouth to ask the inevitable question, but he cut it off by speaking first.

"Trust me?"

**~TNHG~**

She felt his smooth fingers deftly untie the knot at the back of the blindfold, taking great care to ensure no stray hairs were caught. She smiled gently at his thoughtfulness, though it quickly turned to a surprised look when the material fell away to reveal the Burrow's kitchen. She turned in the doorway to face him, watching his calculating look carefully as it turned into a mischievous grin when the perplexity on her own face didn't fade.

"Why have you brought me here?" He chuckled, stepping closer to her and bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. His voice was pitched lower – huskier – causing Hermione to shiver almost involuntarily.

"I wanted to do something that's been plaguing my mind for the last couple of days." Narrowing her eyes in thought she folded her arms across her chest, watching him lean casually against the doorframe. Her voice was teasing when she spoke,

"And what would that be Master Nott?" She watched him carefully as a faint flush rose to his cheeks, eyes looking past her and clouding a little. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to laugh – knowing exactly where his mind had gone.

As if suddenly realising that she was still there he snapped out of his illicit thoughts with a shake of his head before clicking his tongue reprovingly at her. She smiled innocently.

"I feel that showing you would be far easier than telling you."

A brief silence filled the air: Hermione started tapping her foot impatiently.

"Well? I'm waiting." Chuckling again he leant down and kissed her softly, backing her against the doorframe. Hermione sighed, sliding an arm up his torso to tangle her fingers in his hair. He took his time, sliding his lips against hers, exploring her intensely with every pull of his mouth. Opening it slightly, she took the invitation to entwine her tongue with his, eyes closing as her other hand fell to his hip and pulled him closer.

He groaned at her forwardness, grip tightening on her waist before gently bringing it up to brush his thumb against the side of her breast. A satisfied sound welled from the back of her throat and he shivered longingly, pressing his aching hips closer to hers.

The living room door slammed open, and they barely had time to pull away before the harsh light hit their eyes. Hermione turned sheepishly to face the intruders, only to feel her cheeks redden with a hot blush at who it was.

Minerva McGonagall looked a little bemused at Theodore, who – she noticed blithely – was looking more defiant than anything, as if daring them to tell him he was doing something wrong. Her lips twitched with the effort to hold back a smile whilst her companion looked a little shocked.

"Well," he started in his deep voice, "I trust that this won't interfere with any assignments that are given to you?" Hermione frantically nodded, curls brushing Theodore's back. His jaw was tense, chin still jutting out defiantly. He nodded tersely. Kingsley dipped his own head in response. "Good." With that he strode away and up the stairs.

Scuffing the floor with her toes, Hermione looked at her old Professor. The elder woman asked, "I presume this has nothing to do with the seasonal sprig of mistletoe attached to the doorframe?" Eyes widening as she looked upward, Hermione spun to look at Theodore. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"What? I was getting a little jealous of every other male who trapped you under here." She slapped his shoulder.

"So instead of talking through your jealousy with me you decided to just…" She floundered, lost for words.

"Ravish you?" he supplied cheekily, a smile curling the corner of his mouth. Gaping, she hurriedly replied,

"What? No! That's not what I was going to say!" He tsked.

"Should have been."

Minerva chose that moment to interrupt, having a premonition as to what would happen next.

"Well, as delightful as it is to see both of you happy, I'm afraid I must retire for the night – I'm not as young as I used to be." With an expression that was slightly wistful she gave the both a fond smile and went upstairs. Hermione turned her attention back to the male currently smirking at her. He raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

Sighing heavily, she brushed his cheek with the back of her hand.

"I guess at least we don't have to worry about telling them later on." Letting his hands linger as he traced the outline of her torso, he leant down to seal their lips together with a smile.

"There's always a silver lining."

**19/09/12**

**NB: Not having internet is awful. Sorry for major delays until it gets sorted out.**


	12. Realisations

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**12.**

With a sense of déjà vu she sat frozen as chairs shifted around her, signifying everyone leaving as the meeting ended. Feeling Theodore's presence behind her she reached back to clasp one of his hands as the other came onto her shoulder, squeezing briefly in comfort. His voice came from near her ear.

"I'm sorry Hermione." He sat on the chair next to her and she curled up in his lap, seeking the comfort he was only too willing to give.

"Why am I never chosen to go? It's as if there's something or someone blocking me from going." There was a slight pause before his hand started to rub soothing circles on her lower back as she hid her face in the crook of his neck. Her voice was small, hopeless. "I only want to make a difference Theo, why is nobody giving me a chance?" He swallowed, thinking of an answer.

"Hermione…" His voice dragged out her name as a warning that she might not like what he was about to say. "Do you want to go because you have an interest and key knowledge about the mission itself, or because you want a chance to prove yourself by desperately taking any mission that comes your way?" She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I – I don't know." He kissed her hair affectionately.

"Then perhaps it would be best if you saved the big protest for a mission you could give a huge boost to, rather than the one today which is in a town that you've never even heard of before, let alone been to." She frowned lightly.

"How do you know that?" His mouth curled into a small smile.

"I saw you surreptitiously checking the map in your notebook once you heard Kingsley mention it." She blushed, and he ran the back of his hand over them to cool them. "There's no need to be embarrassed. The only reason I know where it lies is because of my Father." His voice was tight, and Hermione leaned into him a little more to help him relax.

"Regardless, that may be true for this mission, but the scouting mission in the Forest of Dean would have been my specialty, especially after that year." She shuddered a little as she thought back to all those months she and the boys had spent camping. He hummed pensively.

"So what will you do?" She hesitated.

"I think I might talk to someone about it, find out why I haven't been chosen for so long." He kissed her hair again.

"Well, I'm going to see if I can find Potter, are you coming?" Looking up at his questioning gaze she shook her head.

"You go on, I'll meet you later. I want to talk to Kingsley." He hesitated, as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it and walked away. She vaguely heard him exit the room and almost bump into somebody as she got up to find the man she wanted to talk to. She wasn't expecting to see him standing in the doorway, and it took her a moment to figure out that it must have been he who Theodore nearly bumped into. He was staring gravely at her, merely waiting for her to talk.

Silence reigned for a few moments.

"Why wasn't I chosen?" His expression never changed, though he sighed heavily and came to sit opposite her.

"There were various reasons." She snorted derisively.

"So tell me all of them." His fingers twitched, but he closed his eyes and relaxed a little.

"Well, there is the obvious one that if you are out on a mission then we lose our main researcher." She was unimpressed.

"So find somebody else. It's not like there's much for me to research at the moment anyway, what with us having no idea of what the last horcrux could possibly be, never mind the fact we've had no new information for the last seven months. I'm not a miracle worker." He nodded resignedly, as if he expected her reply.

"Another is that some think that the group would be too big a target – what with you being so close to Harry. They believe it'll attract Death Eaters like a magnet." She flung her head back and closed her eyes, slowly counting back for ten.

She stopped at five.

"But Harry _himself_ goes on missions! Why the hell is that any different? In fact, that should be worse!"

"Their reasoning is that because Voldemort himself has to kill Harry they can't actually attack him for fear of killing him too soon. Plus he's apparently good for morale." An eyebrow rose.

"And I wouldn't be?" He shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Not in the same way." She huffed, before realising a key phrase that he hadn't said.

"Regardless of all that, you could override them in a heartbeat. You're our _leader_ Kingsley." She gave him a pointed look. "So what's _your_ reason for keeping me back here?" He shifted nervously.

"I can't tell you." She threw her head back and laughed.

"Don't be stupid, of course you can." His expression never changed, and her eyes widened in realisation. "He asked you, didn't he?" There was no question who she was talking about. Her chair flew backwards as she stood up quickly. He rose equally as fast.

"Now Hermione, he had good reason. Think about it before you go and –"

"He has _no_ right to tell you what to do with me." Kingsley's jaw tightened.

"Maybe not, but he made a much better deal to keep you here." Her wand was out in a flash, and she pointed it at him only to find herself on the receiving end of his. He chuckled humourlessly. "Come now Hermione, I have far more experience in duelling than you do. Think about what you're doing, else you'll do something you regret."

Her blood was heating in anger, vision reddening.

"I know exactly what I'm doing. If you'll excuse me." She backpedalled out of the room as fast as she could, looking for the one man who had blighted her chance at helping, _again._

**10/11/12**

**Sorry for the delay. There are no excuses, not really.**


	13. Confrontations

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

_NB: The next couple of chapters all take place within a small space of time - this one follows on immediately on from chapter 12, and chapters 14 and 15 take place the next week on in the story. This is because I felt it was an important stage in their relationship, and it didn't sit right being one long snapshot. If you have any questions about timings etc, please feel free to ask a question in either a review or PM._

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**13.**

With a face like thunder she stormed through the house, barging past anyone who was in her way - leaving them staring after her, bewildered. Eventually she found him chatting amiably with Harry over a chess game. Harry moved a piece forward, capturing one of Theodore's rooks. He looked smugly at his opponent, who frowned at the loss of his piece.

"Nice move Potter. You're getting better at this." The man in question smiled before noticing the witch in the doorway. His immediately stood, concern evident in his every move.

"Hermione? Are you alright? What happened?" She said nothing in response, choosing instead to glare darkly at Theodore. His complete and utter lack of reaction was a total give away. Harry stepped forward to place a worried hand on her shoulder but stilled at the next words spoken.

"Potter? Do you mind giving us a moment?" His tone was completely and utterly blank, giving Harry no further clues as to what had occurred to rile Hermione up so much. Grimacing, he nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Hermione immediately warded it against intruders. Theodore swallowed.

"Hermione –" She shrieked in rage and threw the nearest object to hand at him.

"How could you?!" Recoiling as the corner of the book's spine hit his shoulder, Theodore stumbled for a moment, before realisation seeped into his eyes. He warily started again,

"Hermione, I want you to tell me exactly what Kingsley told you." He stepped to the side to avoid a painful stinging hex, before gracefully disarming her and snagging her wand, sticking it to the inside of his pocket.

"You know exactly what he would have said, you bastard!" He winced at her out-of-character swearing, rapidly understanding that this was not something he could just charm his way out of.

"Hermione…"

"Don't you 'Hermione' me Theodore Nott! How long were you going to keep it a secret? Until you'd finished having your fun gallivanting around – taking _my_ place on missions and raids – and then decided to let the little _mudblood_ have a turn?!" He froze, temper rising rapidly.

"I have _never_ called you that disgusting slur, and you're completely over reacting! There's good reason for you to stay behind!" Jaw and fists clenched, his eyes smouldered in barely contained rage. She was equally as tense.

"And to think, I thought you were being so _nice_ and comforting whenever I received the news that I wasn't allowed on a raid, holding me while I cried out all of my despair at being overlooked – again – when in reality, it was your entire fault!" He stepped backward hastily, all traces of rage flooding out of the way for shock and confusion to work their way across his features. Somewhere, something in his instructions to Kingsley had gone horribly wrong

"What? I only spoke to Shacklebolt last –" He cut off, narrowly ducking the vase that shattered against the wall behind his head.

"I am not an idiot! Nor am I a child – so stop treating me like one!" Her hair crackled. His eyes begged for her to listen to him.

"I wasn't – I swear! I just wanted to keep you safe. Is that such a crime?!" A frustrated yell tore its way out from the back of her throat.

"When it's keeping me from helping – yes!" Throwing another book at him she continued, "You knew that I felt hopeless being unable to go on the raids. You _knew_ that I wanted to help out more than anything!"

"You don't know what it's like out there! It's filled with blood and dust and _violence _and gore – I just wanted you to be –"

"Wrapped in cotton wool?"

"What? No! I just –"

"Couldn't _bear_ me actually doing something helpful?"

"Will you just _listen _to me?! I didn't want –"

"Me to get all the _glory _that you've been basking in now you've been included in all the plans?" He reeled back in shock, nearly doubling over in pain at her words.

"It wasn't like that! I only –"

"Shut it _Nott. _I get the picture." He winced as she hissed his surname coldly. He tentatively reached for her.

"Hermione, _please_…" She slapped his hand away, eyes sparking with fury.

"Leave me alone."

"But…"

"Get away from me!" There was a long silence as the words rang in his ears, the echoes of her loud shriek knocking around before finally taking root. His shoulders slumped in defeat; his eyes closed slowly with both longing and regret. Fighting the tightening pain in his chest he looked at her with no expression on his face. When he finally spoke, it was tinged with sadness.

"As you wish." As quietly as his voice had been he left the room, closing the door behind him. She did nothing but glare in his wake, anger boiled over like a rising tide.

She was unaware of the single tear that fell from her cheek.

**15/11/12.**


	14. Revelations

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

_My apologies for the delay, life has a funny way of turning things inside out._

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**14.**

"Hello, stranger." She jumped, spilling her ink all over the parchment she'd been scribbling on. Looking up warily, she relaxed when she saw Harry's vibrant green eyes looking at her – not Theodore's hazel.

"Harry, hi! How have you been?" There was an awkward moment of silence before Harry slumped in the seat across from her and answered.

"Much better than two people I know of." She blushed, before siphoning the ink off of her parchment and starting to write, pretending that her fingers weren't shaking at the sudden ache in her chest. He sighed heavily. "Hermione… what happened? Last week everything was fine, but now…" She lifted her head to look at him forlornly.

"He broke my trust, Harry." He frowned.

"How?" She clicked her tongue.

"By telling Kingsley to forbid me from going on missions." He looked even more confused.

"Hermione, he had a really good reason to –" She interrupted him angrily.

"Not you too! For crying out loud, I am just as good as _anyone_ who goes on these raids and missions, not left behind like an idiot!" Harry sighed, trying to figure out how to phrase his reply. Eventually he rolled his shoulders as if gearing himself up.

"Hermione. I'm going to be very blunt with you, and tell you his reasoning. But you're going to have to just listen to me, not comment. Alright?" She shifted slightly, focussing completely on the man opposite her. Screwing her mouth up in irritation, she answered him anyway.

"Fine. You have my attention." Running a hand through his hair nervously, he blurted out his response.

"Basically, this mission threw Nott's father into the mix, and all that he can remember from his time at home is his father making all these lewd comments about all the things he'd do to you when you were captured – apparently _he_ owes him a reward." There was no need to elaborate. Hermione looked thoughtful.

"But what about all the other missions Harry? They can't _all_ have had Theodore's father included. That would be impossible." Harry's eyes widened.

"That's what Kingsley told you?" His tone was incredulous. Wiping a hand across his face, he continued, "No wonder you're so angry…" He broke off into some off-colour muttering that Hermione was sure she didn't want to hear. She stiffened her back, speaking more formally to him.

"Indeed. Seems like Nott didn't tell you the whole truth." Raising his eyebrows in response, Harry's tone cooled drastically.

"No, Hermione, it's _you_ who hasn't been told the truth. Nott never banned you from _all _of the raids – only this one. He was worried that he wouldn't be able to look out for you and take care of his father at the same time." She gaped like a fish.

"What?! But – Kingsley…" Thinking back to their conversation, she realised that their leader hadn't actually ever said that Theodore had tried to ban her from all the raids, only implied it. And she, fool that she was, had fallen for it; hook, line and sinker.

"I thought his father was dead?"

"Regrettably, far from it. And you, my dear, would be even more of a prime target as we have a leak. More specifically, someone now knows about you two being involved. " Cradling her head on the cold desk, she answered in a muffled voice.

"Oh, Harry, I don't even know if we're involved anymore. I –" She stared at him sadly. "I said some truly terribly things. I even threw books at him." Harry stifled a laugh.

"I'm surprised you didn't send birds flying at him." Wryly she replied,

"I would have done had he not disarmed me." He truly laughed then, rocking back onto two legs and hitting his thigh. Settling back down with a thud, he grasped her hand.

"Oh, Hermione, never change." She gave him a small smile before chewing nervously on her lip.

"But, Harry, what can I do to fix this?" Her voice was quiet, regretful. He regarded her thoughtfully, before shrugging.

"I'd help you, but we all know how my last relationship turned out. It's something between the two of you, I can't tell you how to fix something I don't know about." She smiled sadly, packing her books away.

"Well, I should probably go and find him to apologise, hopefully something will come to mind." She frowned as Harry reached out to grab her wrist.

"Err, Hermione? It's too late. He's already gone. Left this morning." She stared at him, frozen, eyes wide with realisation.

Books clattering to the ground, she curled her hands around the table top to keep herself from falling. Harry stood up in alarm.

"Hermione? What's –" He broke off as she started to sob, staggering into his arms.

"Oh, Harry. I think – I think he tried to say goodbye to me this morning." Curling a strong arm around her, he nudged her further into a comforting embrace. "I just shoved straight past him! How could I do that?" He rubbed soothing circles on her back, speaking in a low whisper.

"It's alright, you didn't know."

"But I should have trusted him; I should have listened to his side of the story." Wiping her eyes furiously, she looked him dead in the eye. "What happens if he doesn't…?" Harry rested his forehead on hers, as serious as she'd ever seen him.

"I don't know."

**16/04/13**


	15. Ramifications

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**15.**

Putting the giant tome down on her legs with a sigh, Hermione sat more upright, at war with herself. She'd been restless, no, _anxious_ since she'd had her talk with Harry a few days ago; simply knowing that Theodore had actually been innocently protecting her hadn't stopped her mind from filling with visions of horrific injuries he might have sustained, or even died from. That was, if he ever came back at all.

She didn't know which was worse.

Placing the book down carefully, she found herself wandering aimlessly, avoiding the creaking stairs without a second thought as to what she was doing, mind locked onto the fact that she might not ever see him again to apologise, or explain, or…

His bedroom door loomed in front of her.

She did nothing for a moment, battling with herself, hand poised at the handle; her fingers were twitching with the effort it took to suppress her curiosity. However, realising the already precarious position she had put their relationship in already, she decided that it might actually be better to know a little more about what he was like, so she knew how she could better handle the situation if – no, _when _– he returned. Taking out her wand, she cast a series of charms to allow herself to see what barriers he had put up to block out the world; or, alternatively, to keep himself from damaging the world.

She knew first-hand that not everyone living here was on his side. In fact, she could definitely say that there were more against than for him. The door unlocked with a soft click beneath her fingers, and with only a minor hesitation she opened it a fraction and stepped inside.

Peering cautiously around the door, she let the door swing open with an uncharacteristic giggle as she realised that, actually, of _course_ it looked exactly the same as the other bedrooms in the house. He wasn't that much different from any other male in the house - just slighter quieter and more mature. He'd seen much more of the war than any of the other younger generation could possibly imagine. She wasn't sure what she had expected – Slytherin green and silver plastered over the walls, with ominous music and cobwebs in the corner? The thought was ridiculous.

The single bed had been pushed into a corner, allowing more of the teal painted wall opposite her to be seen. Cream bedding with a deep blue and green stripe lay over the top, neatly folded over the sides of the mattress, with matching pillows slightly sunken with the impression of his last night spent there. One wall was completely covered in sheets of parchment which had been scribbled over in multiple colours of ink. Peering closely at it, she noticed that although most were battle strategies or spells, some were bizarre sayings and quotes that seemed a little out of place.

She smiled, a faint flush on her cheeks when she saw that he had scribbled down the phrase, 'Post hoc, ergo propter hoc' and underlined it heavily, with a small annotation leading from it to another saying, this time in French, which said: 'À chacun son gout.' Resolving to look up its definition, she wandered around the room, fingertips trailing lightly along the wall. Noticing a bookshelf out of the corner of her eye, she saw a few books on war strategies, but also many fiction books – both muggle and wizard alike. Although slightly surprised at this turn of events, she hummed appreciatively upon realising that the most battered spine belonged to J.R.R Tolkein's '_The Hobbit'._

The thought of him reading in the library after he'd first ignored her for a month floated back to her, and she realised that him being cagey was because he thought she'd make fun of him for reading a muggle book. She clearly had a lot to learn about him. She wisely decided to leave his chest of drawers and wardrobe alone, figuring that anything, other than clothing, that he kept in there would be strictly more private.

She finally sat on his bed, before a pang of loneliness struck her, and she laid down, curling into a ball. Praying to a deity she didn't believe in, she quietly pleaded for his safety. Upon hearing a crinkling noise beneath her head, she reached underneath and snagged what appeared to be a piece of parchment that had been unfolded and refolded repeatedly. She frowned a little before starting to open it, noticing a pattern that looked like a sketch of someone, when suddenly –

"_Hermione_!" The panicked yell tore her from her reverie as she recognised the voice that was calling her name. Sprinting out of Theodore's room, she ran down the stairs as fast as she could, calling to Harry that she was on her way. Freezing as she got to the bottom of the stairs, she almost fell over in shock.

"…no." Her voice cracked on the word, disbelief in her voice. Harry looked at her, soiled with blood and dirt.

"I tried, Hermione. But he, I – his father. I couldn't get him out before the curse hit. I don't know what it was. I'm so sorry."

"Theo!" Her desperate cry echoed through the hallways of the house as she ran to her almost-lover lying on a stretcher, skin paler than a ghost's and arm crooked. She landed at his side, and immediately reached out to cradle his cheek. He groggily opened his eyes before groaning in pain. She turned to Harry.

"Have you sent the patronus?" He responded wearily,

"Yes and Madam Pomfrey's on her way. There's not much we can do till then." Unwanted tears prickled Hermione's eyes, and she rubbed at them fiercely whilst turning back to Theodore.

"Why is it always you?" His head lolled weakly to face her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His voice was cracked, hoarse.

"'Cause then it's not you." Coughing violently, Hermione watched in horror as flecks of blood stained the sheet that was wrapped round him. She looked beseechingly at Harry.

"We have to do something!" Harry looked aggrieved.

"Hermione, none of us know what to do! We only know basic healing spells for cuts and grazes, not…this." He motioned at Theodore. She desperately looked around the room, but didn't want to relinquish her hold on him. Another bout of coughing, then his voice spoke again, quietly.

"He'mione." She made soothing noises to calm him.

"I'm here, Theo, I'm here. Now don't you _dare_ die on me. Else I'll resurrect you and throttle you myself. Or maybe I'll think of something more creative – defenestration, perhaps." He wheezed a laugh before choking, a little more blood spilling out onto the sheet and her hand, yet she dared not move it. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

"Want to – tell." More coughing. She tried to shush him, but he seemed determined to say it. "Tell you. I –" He was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's arrival, and consequent gasp of surprise at his state. She barked out swift instructions to both her and Harry, so regretfully she let go of Theo. He tried to follow her hand for a moment, before groaning wearily and screwing his eyes shut. Harry held onto her, turning her into his embrace and holding her while she cried.

"I – I can't lose him, Harry! Not like this." He held her strongly, letting her shake with the forcefulness of her tears. He kissed the top of her head affectionately.

"I know, Hermione, I know. We'll figure out a way to help him, I promise." The grief overtook her, and she knew where she wanted to be.

"I'll be in his room if you need me." Harry tried to protest, but she waved off his words as she pulled away from him and retraced her steps back up the stairs almost mechanically.

It wasn't until after she'd curled into a ball on his bed, hugging the battered copy of his favourite book to her chest that she realised he'd never actually finished telling her what he wanted to say.

**06/05/13**


	16. Alternating

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**16.**

Harry looked in on the unfortunately familiar scene with a heavy sigh. Wandering over to Hermione, he marked the page in the healing book she was struggling to hold onto and closed it, placing it on the nightstand before arranging her into a more comfortable position on Theodore's bed. Dragging a blanket over her sleeping form, he left the room quietly, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Stopping halfway on the stairs, he sat down, folding his arms on top of his knees and resting his forehead on them. It had been six weeks since he had entered this routine with Hermione, and it showed no signs of abating any time soon.

"You'll get lines on your face if you keep sitting like that, you know." Harry looked up and gave a half smile.

"At least they'll fade." The other person grinned mischievously, wand twirling in their hand.

"Or will they?" Harry looked stunned for a second, before letting out a snort of laughter and inviting the other person to sit down. She did so with a small smile, and the two continued their light teasing until a gruff voice said,

"Excuse me." Harry looked up with a start, before narrowing his eyes slightly at the man in front of him.

"Good afternoon, sir." He nodded in return.

"Good afternoon, Harry. If you don't mind, I just need to get past." Raising an eyebrow, Harry replied.

"No offence Kingsley, but why would you need to? You don't sleep here, and there are only bedrooms beyond this point." The man in question cleared his throat.

"I must speak with Miss Granger. Which room is she in?" Frowning, Harry stood up. Being a couple of steps higher than Kingsley, he could stare the man unflinchingly in the eye.

"She won't talk to you, not after all the trouble you caused." Kingsley's face didn't move.

"It's a matter of Order urgency, she has no choice." Opening his mouth to give a smart reply, Harry paused as a feminine hand brushed the back of his calf. Looking down, he found an intelligent gaze alight with an idea.

"Harry, why don't you go and wake Hermione, whilst Kingsley and I find an empty room they can talk in? That way, no one's privacy is invaded. I think that would be best for both parties, don't you?" Sighing heavily, Harry concurred.

"Fine. We'll be down in a few minutes. The dining room should be free, you should check there first." Giving her a slight smile, he turned away from Kingsley and softly climbed the stairs, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have.

When he reached Theodore's door, however, he found Hermione awaiting him with a grimace on her face.

"Don't worry, Harry, I'll speak to Shacklebolt. Order business is the priority, correct?" She paused, looking up at him with sudden emotion, "Is there… anything else?" Harry's mouth twisted, breathing in deeply.

"Nothing from Madam Pomfrey, Hermione, but –" She interrupting his sentence.

"No news is good news, right. I know." Smiling a little ruefully, he shrugged.

"Have you found anything in your research?" Hermione gave him a look, and he shrank back slightly.

"Harry, it takes _years_ to become a qualified healer. I have been studying by myself for six weeks. Of course I haven't. They won't even tell me his progress." She hid her anxiety behind a forced smile. "I'm sure he's going fine, and he'll be back with us soon. Now, as much as I'd like to spend time with you, I do have to go and talk to Kingsley." Harry snorted.

"I think it's ridiculous. Could they not have asked McGonagall to talk to you instead? Not after what Kingsley did." Hermione shivered, aching truth in her words.

"It wasn't his fault, Harry. I interpreted his words as I wanted to. I _needed_ to be angry at something, to release all my pent up frustration. That was just the breaking point. If anything, it's my fault that Theo's life is still in the balance." Sighing heavily, he knew there was no point in arguing with her. Stepping to one side, he gestured to the ground floor, giving her a mocking salute.

"After you, ma'am." He ducked her slap to the head, laughing, and followed her down the stairs, the atmosphere lightening. Giving her a comforting hug, he left her outside the dining room and walked thoughtfully to the kitchen.

Reaching up to the cupboard, he got a mug out and started boiling the kettle, taking the time to try and plan ways he could make Hermione smile again.

"She'll be alright, you know." Turning wildly, he knocked over the mug, which spun to the floor and shattered. Hand covering his chest, he half-heartedly glared at the intruder.

"Don't scare me like that!" Mending the mug with a wave of his hand, he picked it up and placed it back on the counter before an idea dawned on him. Turning back to her, he asked, "Did Shacklebolt tell you anything before Hermione arrived?" She gave him a grin.

"Of course he did." A long pause. Then, impatiently –

"…and?" She widened her eyes innocently.

"Well, it's very important," she broke off when he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist, almost shaking in his desire to know.

"What is it? Was it about Nott?" Hesitating a moment longer, her face ducked down a little, head shaking in the negative, long blonde hair brushing his wrist. He gave a slight shiver, but thought nothing more of it, wanting her to just _speak. _When she gave her answer he staggered back in shock, pulling her with him. The boiling kettle screeched in the background, unnoticed.

"They've found the last horcrux. We're near the end."

**16/05/13**

**Last slow chapter for a while, folks. It's time for the action to begin.**


	17. Battling

**Disclaimer: Not my characters.**

_This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: __**Of Writing and Falling in Love.**__ Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given._

**Prompt: Must use the phrase '**_**Post hoc ergo propter hoc**__**.'**_

**Of Memories and Waiting.**

**17.**

Ducking, she felt the heat from a spell as it brushed past her ear and crashed into a garden wall, leaving a gaping hole where bricks used to be. Hermione paid it no heed; her legs ached with every step, more stumbling than running. Desperately, she tried to apparate, but felt her body being crushed against a ward.

Panting for oxygen, she clasped her extendable bag tightly as she ran. She couldn't risk dropping it, lest the Deatheaters trailing her picked it up; then all hope would truly be lost. She threw a spell randomly behind her, a very faint smile curling her lips as she heard a muffled yell.

Turning a corner, Hermione skidded and fell, skinning her knees and elbow on the way down. Her blood froze and she looked desperately around her. _No! Not a dead end! _Standing groggily, she scrabbled at the brick encasing her. As footsteps approached the end of the alley she had turned into, she shielded herself, blasting a whole in the wall. Praying it would stay upright until she exited, Hermione dived into the building, splinters of rock embedded in her side.

She stumbled again, this time feeling a spell pierce her shoulder blades. With no time to shriek, her limbs locked up and she tumbled to the floor. A silhouette appeared on the floor in front of her.

"Well, what do we have here? A little mudblood out for revenge, perhaps?" Hermione struggled to free herself from the binding spell; trying to squint as she was rolled to face the light. The figure that loomed over her was tall, thin. He looked eerily like an older version of… _no._

Hermione started to panic.

"Or, if not out for revenge, then what are you here for?" He started pacing around her, warding the building as he went, blocking anyone from entering or escaping. "And, while I think about it…" Paused, his breathing was the only sound in the room. "Why weren't you frustrating like all the others, using one of those stupid portkeys to escape?" Hermione's vision faded at the edges.

_Faint echoes of shattering brick and bone, someone screaming in agony. Her, frantically pressing her charmed coin into their hand, lips parting to speak the voice activated code word, the rush of wind at their departure. Then; menacing footsteps as someone started to follow her._

She startled as Nott slammed the heel of his hand beside her face. Attempting to glare at him, she could only watch as his face loomed closer to hers.

"I also hear that you have succumbed to certain amorous feelings for my erstwhile son. It's a shame really, that you chose the wrong Nott." He crouched down, smoothing Hermione's hair back from her face. Fear started to creep along her spine, seeping its way into her fingertips. She tried to move her body again, but received only a slight tingling in her toes for her efforts. Nott continued to speak, eyes gleaming in the low light.

"Don't worry; I'll make sure you enjoy it."

Hermione's mind started flicking quickly through the options before realising what he was about to do. Knowing she would only have a few seconds, if that, she tried to brace herself. Releasing her from the body bind, he waved his wand immediately again, mouth opening to form the words of the unforgiveable that would cripple Hermione forever.

Using all her strength, she rose quickly and slammed her forehead into his nose, breaking off the spell on his lips as he reared back in shock, stumbling over his feet, onto the floor with a cry as he felt his nose crack, bleeding profusely. Standing up too quickly, she fell too, her limbs having cramped whilst she was frozen. She could see her wand underneath the table near her hand and stretched out, but he slammed a foot down, cracking her wrist. Wrenching away from him, she snatched her wand and cursed him into stillness.

Poised, she held her arm, wand pointing at him – albeit a little shakily – lips ready to utter the curse that would strike out the light from his eyes. Pain was exploding though her body, her hand shaking, lips quivering with indecision.

She bit her lip, chained him to the floor and left, running out the door and apparating desperately to the only place she felt safe.

Opening the front door of the Burrow, she debated taking the stairs before the pain in her leg and wrist convinced her to just apparate. Unravelling Theodore's wards almost effortlessly, she walked into his room. Upon seeing no signs of activity, she felt the tears gather at the corners of her eyes. Falling onto his bed, she resolved to go to Pomfrey as soon as she woke up, already falling into the hazy darkness of sleep.

Waking with a start and glancing over at the clock, she blearily noted that she'd had about three hours sleep before wondering what had woken her. The door opened, and Hermione panicked, knowing that she hadn't reset Theo's wards before she'd collapsed on his bed. Holding her breath, she watched as fingertips curled around the door and a figure stepped into the darkness.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

**15/07/13**


End file.
